if no sequels are going to be written.What if there are? I don't really have a good idea for one at the moment, but that will not necessarily stop me.

The epilogue would answer all questions about if he marries Givi's sister, and just what happens.

I haven't quite decided on that. She is certainly very much in love with Radesh, but he needs some time to recover. Anyway his mariage will have to wait until the spring. I rather suspect something might happen before that.

Do his scars heal enough for him to do anything?

But of course! Otherwise, I would not be able to write much of a sequel, would I?

I've been able to read a few bits of this and I've been impressed with what I've seen. Your writing may very well be of publishable quality. If this whole piece is novel sized (100K words) then I would refine it to the best of your ability and submit it to an agent for representation. I try to keep tabs on the fiction market and there is an upswing of interest in fantasy that leaves the tired world of northwestern European medieval settings behind and explores the many different cultures of the world. I think you have a good effort here.

I am so impressed with your work, Frelga. Sorry I have been so absent...another couple sites where I mod plus my 'real life' have kept me away. I'm glad you contacted me to read the last of this excellent work. You have potential, my dear, and I hope you pursue writing.

For any and all, Frelga asked about a grammar book. I highly recommend: Eats, Shoot & Leaves by Lynne Truss, the best and yet most hilarious contemporary grammar book I have ever read. I use it in my writing seminars.

Frelga, I've just read your story and I agree that it was wonderful. Writing in first person is so difficult and you did it so well. It was a very interesting tale and I would love to see a sequel! That little excerpt you posted from the future was intriguing. Also, I love the title. It's what made me come here to read it in the first place. Keep writing!

First off, thanks - and chocolates - to everybody who responded. Galhadrim, your kind words mean a lot to me, as I have enormous respect for your writing and editing. I am hoping for a bit of in depth advise from you.

As I was writing, I found that even though the story was told by Radesh, I had to be able to tell it from the viewpoint of any character, or it was no good. I took notes. The following bit is sort of a prequel by Nureli, Givi's sister. It's not much more than a sketch and an excuse for me to sw00n for my own character , but perhaps someone will enjoy it.
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Nureli's Tale

I used to call you Shasha. Radesh is a simple enough name, but my little tongue could not wrap itself around it. As soon as I learned to walk, I would toddle after you calling “Shasha, Shasha, wai!” Usually, you waited. For a little boy, you had a lot of patience with me. I bit you once, when I was three and you were nine. I was trying to climb down the river bank, I think, to the dirty-green floodwater. You caught me, and held me, and I hugged you and then bit your shoulder. You pulled away, but it was my brother who was angry with me. “She’s too little,” you said, “she doesn’t understand.” That was when I started crying.

Six and twelve. You and Givi all wrapped up in your adventures, no less grand for being pretend. Once again I was the annoying little sister running after my big brother and his friend. “Let her play,” you would tell Givi. “She can be the daughter of the Sun, stolen by her evil uncle. Stay here, Nuriko, and we will rescue you.” You always did.

Fourteen and eight. You were training in earnest now, staff and bow, and the grandest of all –swords, sharp steel. I had my chores and my own crafts, but I still wanted to run after you. Sometimes you let me but all you wanted to do was more fighting. “See here, if someone was to grasp your hand, so, you just twist it out and under, like this. See – I can’t stop you and now you are under my guard and you can strike me – so. Don’t be afraid, hit harder, you can’t hurt me. Just don’t bite me again.” You laughed. Givi was the taller of you then, I think. He glowered at the imaginary villain who dared to lay hands on his sister.

At sixteen Givi crushed his leg while riding. You sat by his bed, round-shouldered, head down, your clenched fists too heavy for slender wrists. “I should have been there,” you said. As if it was your fault that my brother chose to ride off by himself, that he was too busy fitting the world around him into his words to watch where the horse was taking him. But to you, it was your chore to keep your friend safe.

You two spent the next nine years racing each other, and finding a hundred ways to test your strength. The joy that it gave you I could see but never understand. Summers you went away to high pastures. I counted days and waited for the storm clouds to come back. Every time you returned taller, your shoulders broader, your strength riper. Winter evenings you would sing together, and I could sing with you where I worked on my spinning and sewing.

And so until you were twenty-five and I nineteen. At Sunswing, I lacked a single summer to dance the Round Dance. Not that it would have mattered. Tamiko was there, who could easily outshine me and any other girl, and she was named the Flower of the Hills. And at last the summer passed, and you came back ready for your proving at the Lykhnasta.

Lykhnasta – that’s all you talked about. Not to me, you hardly ever spoke to me anymore beyond what courtesy required and permitted. Givi would rather talk of something else, having no chance of winning himself. But your heart was so set on those games that for the first time you failed to noticed your friend’s pain. And my heart squeezed into a pebble when I heard you. If you won, you would marry Tamiko. But you never spoke of marrying.

So desperate I was that I went to Givi and asked him to speak to you. I broke my friend’s trust, I told him of the promise that Tamiko gave to Behoe. “Tell him!” I begged. “Tell him before he breaks his own heart and two others.” Two I said, but three I meant. Givi refused to tell you. “He would not hear me,” he said.

At last it came to that final contest. The mountains seemed to crowd around the sand ring, peering over each other’s shoulders at you and Behoe. He was a huge man, solid as a rock. But you, you were like a spring flood – swift, unstoppable. He had no chance.

And neither had I.
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That's all for now. I am not asking for critique of this bit, as it's really just working notes, but of course feel free to give your input if the spirit moves you. It's the main story that could use some help. Several kind souls advised me to submit it, and I am just conceited enough to try it.

So, I am editing it now. If anybody feels like taking that thing apart, and giving me a piece of their mind, I will be eternally grateful. It's fairly short, about 9,000 words or 17 printed pages.

I really don't think that Nureli's Tale needs critiquing. It's absolutely lovely. I adore it. The wording is magical. Acutally, I feel like I know Radesh better now than I did during the main story. I wouldn't change a thing about it except one:

At Sunswing, I lacked a single summer to dance the Round Dance.

This is a beautiful sentence but I have no idea what it means. Perhaps a bit of clarification? Other than that, I love it.

First things first. Sw00ns at Faramir sig pic.Emails chocolates to undomiel and Luthy.

I THINK it means she was one year to young to compete to be Flower of the Hills.

Luthy, that's it. Sunswing is a spring festival, and the Round Dance is part of the rite of passage for girls who reach 20 and are considered fit to be married. Lykhnasta is a fall festival, wich includes some contests for young men, again to decide who is allowed to marry. And yes, I made that up, most of it.

Assumes a kneeling position, which makes her look very pitiful.

Would somebody please critique this story? I have a wonderful, very intuitive Beta, who can spot my gross errors, but no one who can review grammar and word choice. Not anyone. I asks nicely. And if that's not enough, I begs.

I can critique it, Frelga. Just give me a bit of time. Do you want just grammar and diction? I'd be happy to help out as much as I can provided you take a look at my story when I finally get it up here.

I'd really love for someone to nitpick the mordor out of the story before I make a total fool of myself by submitting it. Grammar is my biggest problem, but I appreciate anything else anyone cares to point out.

Frelga, I see you have two editors hard at work I'm also in the process of trying to get hold of a relative of mine who worked as an editor for a number of years to ask if she would mind taking her red pen to your story. No promises, but I can't see why she wouldn't

I'm so thrilled you're moving towards publishing. You deserve it my friend. You have more than enough talent. Onwards and Upwards Frelga!

I know this has been here a long time, and I'm sort of resurecting a buried thread, but I wanted to put my two cents in, too. I wanted to say: I love it! And if you, Frelga, do more about Radesh, and I very much hope you do! That you'll let the rest of us know. Maybe let the rest of us read it? (Pretty please?)
All in all, it is a delightful read: the setting is unique, believe-able, (almost feel-able;) and lovely, and the characters are genuine and highly interesting, drawing the reader well into the conflict. It is easy to empathize with everybody, and each individual's perspective and problems.
Thank-you very much for putting this up for reading pleasure, it was truely... a pleasure.
Hurrah for Frelga, even if it is awfully behind the times.

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What do I know? I am just a sheep herder from the Hills. All my life I dealt with sheep and dogs.

It's no use getting angry at the sheep. They will not understand why you are angry. It's no use getting angry at the dogs, either. We call them wolfcrushers for a reason. You don't train them to guard your stock. They adopt you, and then they protect you and yours with their lives. What they protect you from is up to them, and they don't take chances.

I was perhaps nine years old when Father entrusted me with my first sheepguard. A great storm came, clouds black like heavy boots, beating the mountainside with thunder. Nagazi, my dog, broke away from me and charged up the hill at the clouds. I grabbed his collar, but he was the stronger. He dragged me through mud, he dragged me over stones and through the bushes, and finally I stopped him, hanging on to his collar with one hand and to some trees with the other.

I screamed curses at him, bruised and miserable, and the rain poured over both of us. Still he barked and strained. I saw that he would break free in a moment.

Desperate at last, I stopped my cursing and spoke to him as my father always did. "Good friend," I said, "brave friend. Come to me," I said, "all is safe. There is no danger, good friend."

Nagazi spared me a look then, and I went on until he stopped trying to tear my arm off and came to lick mud off my face.

Then I heard a laugh. Father came up behind me and stood watching us in the rain. "Well done," he said. "Keep this up, you will have him trained in no time."

I wiped the rain out of my eyes, and then I saw that he was not looking at me.

He was talking to the dog.

Impressive. Every word in that sentence was wrong.Luke Skywalker, The Last Jedi

Hey Frelga!!! Still recall this lovely tale, and am wondering if you ever tried publishing it? It's so perfectly balanced and well written that I think it's a shame it can't be disseminated to more folks!!! Hope all is well with you...

Aw... Frelga, it doesn't have to be polished to a shine to be submitted. After all, that's what publishing houses have editors for!!! Even if you just send it in like this, the work will speak for itself. I've been researching a lot of publishing options, and if the story grabs someone they'll want to work with it no matter what it's current level of "shine" is. If you want any help, just let me know and I'll be happy to lend you whatever knowledge I've gleaned along the way!